


Mist in my Eyes

by Firenza



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Episode 139- spoilers, M/M, The Lonely - Freeform, do i even need a spoilers tag at this point?, introspection on Martin’s time in the lonely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:13:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23365267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firenza/pseuds/Firenza
Summary: For the first time in life, he is truly and completely alone. There is no one else here, and there never will be.It’s wonderful.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Kudos: 25





	Mist in my Eyes

The Lonely is comforting. The mist wraps around him like a blanket, protection from anything that dares to threaten the safe haven it has created for him. For the first time in life, he is truly and completely alone. There is no one else here, and there never will be.

It’s wonderful.

He doesn’t feel sadness at the thought. No, in fact, it’s a comfort. There’s no one to disappoint, no one to worry about. No one can hurt him here. There’s nothing but him and the distant sound of waves crashing against the rocky beach.

He can’t see the waves. The fog obscures his vision entirely. A suffocating gray mist that cuts him off with the rest of reality. He doesn’t mind. It’s better than the outside world, as full of people as it is. He hardly remembers that world full of noisy streets and crowded subways. The world full of danger and hope and love and just so full of needless things. No, he doesn’t remember much of it, just the fact that it’s too much for him. Was too much for him. Here— alone— is peaceful. Here, he can finally be free.

There must have been a point where the fog cleared slightly and he picked himself off the sand, as he now finds himself strolling along the beach. The waves lap at his ankles, threatening to pull him under. He’s only slightly afraid.

Like a crashing wave, the fog wraps around him once more, twisting and swirling in mesmerizing patterns. He finds himself lost in it’s dance. It doesn’t invite him to join, but he isn’t offended at it’s lack of courtesy. He doesn’t wish to dance with it, preferring to watch from the sidelines as the mist flutters from place to place.

And then the mist is gone once more and in it’s place is a person. A man so indescribably familiar, yet he cannot place how he would know him. He’s never met another person before, not in a very long time at least. There’s no reason that he should know him. Yet he does.

The man is running to him, calling out too loudly. It’s a painful sound that grates against his ears, so much unlike the soothing ambiance of the crashing waves behind him. The man speaks to him and he replies, but the words feel wrong in his mouth. He doesn’t understand what either of them are saying anyway,

He wants to wrap himself in the fog and hide away. So he does. The mist embraces him, cocooning him in the tight blanket that offers security from being known.

He stays like that, floating in the mist, for a long while. It’s stopped dancing, electing to just carry him along in it’s current. Occasionally, he’ll hear voices calling out to him. They tell him how much better it is that he’s alone, how no one in the outside world will miss him. They tell him about how safe he is here, that no one will or can hurt him.

He believes them. Why would he not.

The voices dissipate and he does not miss their presence. The comforting weight of loneliness is enough to fill the silence.

But the fog dissolves once more, and he is dropped, once again, onto the rocky sand. In front of him is a man, one that he swears he knows, but cannot place. The man rushes towards him, blood speckled on his clothing and face.

There’s a hand on his shoulder and on his cheek. The touch burns into his skin, but he finds that he doesn’t want to pull away. His touch feels right somehow. The man places his hand underneath his chin to lift his head and he meets his eyes.

The man is talking to him, asking him questions. Asking him what he sees.

At once, Martin feels a warmth battling away the fog of the Lonely. It rushes through his veins, bringing tears to his eyes. He gasps at the sudden heat and the world comes back into focus. Jon is kneeling in front of him, one hand on his shoulder, the other on his cheek.

He remembers Jon’s question, asked without malice or compulsion. “I see… I see you, Jon. I see you.” The revelation is enough to make him cry because he does see him. He sees him in more detail than he ever has before.

He buries his face into Jon’s shoulder. “I was on my own…” There are tears streaming down his cheeks now, soaking Jon’s jumper. “I was on my own.”

Jon’s hands curl into the back of his shirt, holding him close as if he’d fade away. “Not anymore.” They sit there for a moment before Jon stands and extends a hand to help him up. “C’mon. Let’s go home.”

Martin takes his hand and it’s warmth seeps into his still chilled fingers. “How?”

“Don’t worry,” Jon smiles. “I know the way.”


End file.
